The Killing Game
by Without Fear
Summary: To spice up their "boring" job teenage Madara and Hashirama give each other challenges to make their assignments more entertaining. Their "game" leads to Hashirama's developing a conscience and interest in bonsai while Madara to falls in love with power.


**The Killing Game**

_Without Fear_

**Summary:** To spice up their "boring" jobs, teenage Madara and Hashirama give each other challenges to make their assignments more entertaining. Their game of killing leads to Hashirama's developing a moral conscience and interest in bonsai while Madara to falls in love with power. Thus begin their divergence on very different paths…

**Disclaimer**: I am writing a **fan**fiction.

**Rating**: T – Blood, gore, and cold blooded murder. And some swearing and sexual innuendos and situations. But seriously, who cares?

**Note:** For some reason, the last time I posted this, it got deleted a couple of hours afterward, strangely. I guess it was good because it gives me a chance to redo this concept with a more full-fledged plot. This is meant to be short, probably think about 3-5 chapters. This will lead up to a strained rift that will continue in _**Foxhunt**_, which I am writing right now. Yes, yes, I'm shamelessly plugging.

_**Thank you for clicking and please please read, and please review! Lots of kisses!**_

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**Chapter 1****: Teenage Rebellion**

Senju Hashirama was resting by a small river. He dipped his tired feet in the cool running water and sighed with pleasure. Smiling to himself, he stretched his hands towards the sky and flung himself on the ground. His dark eyes squinted as he looked up into the sunny blue sky as the long wanted rest suddenly made him drowsy. Before he could doze off to sleep, a kunai flew from one of the trees and struck the ground inches from his face. Hashirama snapped his eyes open and looked at the kunai, and an amused grin spread across his boyish face. The kunai was not an ordinary kunai—it was long handled, conspicuously silver and with a red handle. He sat up, yawning, and pulled it out of the ground.

A black blur jumped out of one of the trees and landed by Hashirama's side and propped himself down on the ground. With messy long black hair and sharp eyes, Madara smirked victoriously at his companion and said, "Game."

"How'd it go?" asked Hashirama with the same amused smile.

"The old man couldn't accept that I was killing him," said Madara, a cruel glint in his eyes, "Even when I released the genjutsu and he saw that I was the one holding the kodachi that was in his guts."

"He loved you like a real son," said Hashirama sadly and with slight sympathy in his voice.

"It didn't take long for him to adopt me," said Madara with a laugh, "You know, that means, legally, I inherit all his things."

"I doubt you can claim your inheritance _now_."

"It depends," said Madara with a shrug, "Real sons are killing their real fathers all the time for title and money. Why should this be any different? I have to say, this would be quite a lucrative mission if I end up claiming that inheritance. Not only do we get money from our client, but from the target as well."

"You're happy about this," noted Hashirama with a slanted smile, "That's so like you. The poor guy died being betrayed by a young man he saw as his son and here you are thinking about the inheritance."

"Hey, it was _you_ who gave me condition to get the old man's inheritance before I killed."

"I know," answered Hashirama with a sad, lopsided grin, "I still do think that it was cruel."

"You know, Hashirama," said Madara, pulling a fist full of grass and flinging it at the Senju, "Your developing sense of morality is getting annoying. Soon you won't be able to even be a shinobi anymore. If that's the case, then I'll get bored and you _don't_ want that to happen."

Hashirama rolled his eyes and shook the red handled kunai at him, "I think it's too late for that. This game was your brainchild after all."

"And am I so proud of myself of it!" exclaimed Madara haughtily, "However, I hate having a conversation about this every time. Now Senju, _admit it_, you actually enjoy this."

Hashirama said nothing, but he was smiling and shaking his head, "Now, did you get the new mission?"

Madara flashed his friend a devious smile, fished out a small scroll from his pocket, and tossed it to Hashirama. The Senju unrolled it and read it silently.

"I see," said Hashirama, nodding, "A simple assassination of a warlord."

"Too simple," said Madara, "And no fun _at all_." Their eyes met at this, and both teenagers grinned knowingly.

"Then, by all means, Madara," said Hashirama, folding the scroll into a small square and slipping in under his left wrist guard, "Make it more entertaining. It's my turn this time." Hashirama swirled the red handled kunai in his hand.

Madara's expression was now gleefully mischievous, and his liquid black eyes had a very familiar evil glint. He looked at his companion and said, "I challenge you to take out the target without the use of any jutsus. Also, you can't spill blood. Game?"

Hashirama grinned, "Game." He pocketed the kunai, "What's the time limit?"

"Since I said no justsus, I'll give you a week."

"A week huh?" Hashirama mused, "Taijutsus count?"

"No advanced taijutsus," replied Madara.

"You're steering me towards poison, aren't you?" said Hashirama, pursing his lips. Seriously, poison was no fun, and Hashirama dislike poison. Not that he didn't think they were useful; he just disliked them, a lot.

"Then…kill him _without_ poison," challenged Madara.

"And not spill his blood?" asked Hashirama with a questioning frown, "That's quite a challenge."

Madara rolled his eyes, "Isn't that the entire _point_ of this game?"

"Alright, without poison," Hashirama conceded, nodding, "But give me two weeks."

Madara smiled, "Why not?" The Uchiha stood up and said, "See you in two weeks." Then he sped off in a blur of black.

It was only ten days later that Senju Hashirama stood over the bloody body of Hoshikage Gennosuke, warlord of the east. However, it was not him who held the bloody kodachi that mutilated the man. A pale young woman, probably in her early 20s, held the bloody weapon and was shaking visibly. Hashirama could see the sweat on her brow and her fearful, teary bloodshot eye. She was one of Hoshikage's concubines.

"H-he…" she stammered, dropping to her knees besides the bloody mess, "He didn't want to give me any, and he _accused_ me of stealing!" With wide, desperate eyes she looked up at Hashirama, "I—I can't survive without it and he…he _lied_…he promised!"

Hashirama just nodded sympathetically and said, his voice gentle, "I know, I know, Kumiko-san. I understand. He was in the wrong." The poor woman nodded fervently.

"Now, if the guards come in," said Hashirama, a distressed frown on his face, "They're going to kill you."

Kumiko jumped in fear at this and dropped the kodachi. She reached out to Hashirama, tears running down her eyes and cried, "Help me! What should I do?"

Hashirama took a cautious step back, taken aback by his sudden surge of genuine sympathy towards the woman. His heart pounded uncharacteristically and cold sweat came about and he could not say what he wanted to—was he _hesitating_? He had gone over this plan, this scene thousands of time in his head, so why was he reluctant now? Was his compassion towards this poor woman overtaking his sense of duty? Growling mentally, he banished the thought, steeled himself and cleared his throat, "If you run, you must run forever. You don't want to live a life like that do you?"

The woman shook her head.

"Then," Hashirama said gently, staring straight in her eyes, "End it here. Take what little honor you have left and end it here."

If Kumiko's eyes could have gone any wider, it would have. She stood frozen, staring at the teenager with an inscrutable expression. After several seconds, her shoulder slumped and her fearful eyes seemed to deaden. She looked down at the bloody kodachi.

"Is it…really the only way?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes," answered Hashirama, "Unless you want to live your entire life in fear. You can't escape them, and if you do, what will do you next? You don't have money for what you need. You'll have to be a concubine again, and what if that man holds out on you again?"

She squeezed her eyes shut tight and shook her head, "I don't want that."

"Then you know what you must do." Hashirama ignored an uncomfortable sting in his stomach. The woman let out a defeated, quivering sigh. She reached for the kodachi and held the point of the blade below her breasts. More tears were coming out of her eyes, and she looked up at Hashirama and gave him a frightening grateful smile. Hashirama felt his stomach turn cold. _Don't look at me like that._

"Thank you, Goro-kun," she said with a sad smile, "You've helped me a lot in the past week. You were like a little brother to me, and Gennosuke-sama took a liking to you. I'm sorry this had to happen."

_Just do it_, Hashirama thought angrily, _do_ _it! Don't smile at me like that! Don't __**thank**__ me!_ At this point, the only thing that kept him from taking that kodachi and plunging it into the woman's breast was Madara's condition.

"Goodbye, Goro-kun," she said pleasantly and thrusted the kodachi into herself. She let out a small whimper of pain, gurgling and other unholy noises that Hashirama disliked. Blood poured out of her mouth and stained her pink kimono. Slowly, she started to sway and she fell suddenly with a surprisingly loud thud, and lay besides her former lover with her hands still on the hilt of the kodachi. Her eyes were wide open.

Hashirama let out a relieved sigh and looked at the repulsive sight before him. He crouch down by her body and gently shut her eyes. Hashirama grimaced. There was guilt in his stomach—guilt for pushing an innocent woman to kill her only provider, and convincing her to take her own life. He bit his lips, eying his two victims with a troubled frown. _I'm sorry_, he thought, and poofed out of the room.

Once safely outside, Hashirama pulled out a pack of white powder from his pocket. In the last week he had won the good graces of Hoshikage as the orphan Goro, manipulated the gullible and opium addicted head concubine Kumiko, and now they were dead, without him once lifting an aggressive hand. Such is the deadly skill of Senju Hashriama. But above all, thinking back, Hashirama felt _guilty_. Kumiko was an unnecessary death…and she only died because he and Madara sought thrills_. But there will always be collateral damage_, he thought in an attempt to console himself. However, a little nasty voice in the back of his head spat, _not always_. Frowning, Hashirama flung the bag into a nearby bush. Whatever the case: _**mission well done**_.

* * *

A silver red handled kunai struck the tree left of Uchiha Madara. The young man smiled, pulled out the dagger as Hashirama jumped to his side.

"You spilled blood," Madara accused, frowning at his friend.

"You said_ I_ couldn't spill blood," returned Hashirama coolly, "And I didn't. His concubine killed him, and she killed herself."

Madara quirked his eyebrows, looking impressed. "So you played them to do your job for you. Of course, I didn't expect any less from you."

Hashirama's face remained serious and even looked upset. Madara noted this, "You seem upset."

"That concubine, Madara," Hashirama began with a tired sigh, "If I had just killed Hoshikage Gennosuke normally, she didn't need to die."

Madara rolled his eyes at this: Hashirama and his inner moral battles. "Here we go again. Like I said, if you develop any more morals, you're going to have to give up being a shinobi."

"There are noble and moral ways to be a shinobi," Hashirama snapped, looking frustrated, "Like there was a way to kill Hoshikage without killing Kumiko."

Madara frowned, "Kumiko? No wonder you're upset if you're still calling her by her name. You get attached. But…there is no nobleness or morality in _killing_, Hashirama. And if you've forgotten, as shinobis, that is what we mainly do. We are _assassins_ of the highest order."

Hashirama remained quiet, realizing the unavoidable truth in Madara's words. He was not satisfied but he shrugged it off. Still with the frown, he looked up at Madara and asked hoarsely, "So, what's new?"

"Two days ago Uchiha Jun killed two Senjus in battle," said Madara boredly, "So now we're back to being enemies. Ideally, I _should_ kill you right now."

Hashirama raised his eyebrows at this, "Really. Again? Wonder how long it'll last this time."

"Not long," mumbled Madara, "As our 'alliance' only lasted a two months, our rivalry will probably end in about four or five months."

Hashirama sighed, "Annoying." Madara smirked and looked at the kunai. He dangled it in front of the Senju.

"You still game?" he asked with a roguish smile.

Hashirama looked seriously at his now-enemy friend for several seconds as the thought of the game he played causing an innocent woman's death flashed into his mind. However, the challenging smile of the Uchiha, the fact that this was mostly all he knew, and that he, despite his reservation, thoroughly enjoyed this game, all compelled him to return the smile. All inner moral battles were forgotten as he thought intellectual challenge and thrill that this game brought him.

"Of course," he replied, "What's your mission now?"

"Getting the five secrets scrolls from the kunoichi Bijourama Junko for Fukaku-dono and killing her," answered Madara, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, awaiting his challenge from Hashirama.

"Bijourama Junko?" repeated Hashirama, "The Lone Kunoichi?"

"The Lone_ly_ Kunoichi," corrected Madara with a devilish grin. Hashirama tried not to think about what the smile implied, but searched his mind for a challenge.

"I challenge you to get her to willingly give the scrolls to Fukaku-dono and persuade her to attempt to take out Uchiha Haruko," said Hashirama evenly, "But _you _must kill her."

"Hah, that is cruel," laughed Madara, "Haruko-san would wipe the floor with Bijourama, no matter how good the woman is. The time limit?"

Hashirama pursed his lips in thought for several seconds. He smiled and answered, "30 days. Game?"

Madara grinned, "Game." He pocketed the red handled kunai.

* * *

"Chichiue," Senju Hashirama bowed deeply to his father. The older man sat at a low table, his eyes fixed on a scroll before him. He looked up at his son's voice, nodded and fixed his eyes back onto his scroll. The young man came forward and took a seat opposite of his father, the cold tatami mat sending shivers up his spine.

"You have been very prolific, Hashirama," the father said, eyes still on the scroll, "Five high level missions completed in the course of 44 days. I heard you took out Hoshikage Gonnosuke."

For all his pride and strength, Hashirama still found himself shrinking in the presence of his father. The Elder Senju, as he was known in the shinobi world, was dictatorial and controlled his children and clansmen like puppets. Hashirama knew his father to be a calculating man, and had worked hard to maintain the strength of the Senjus even through all the civil wars, clan conflicts and mindless chaos. However, this also meant he wasn't the warmest father.

"Yes, I did, sir," confirmed Hashirama with a nod.

"It was an impressive kill," the Elder Senju still did not look up at his son, "You didn't even lift a kunai. Only 15 yet your skills are beyond those much older than you." Hashirama merely nodded as his felt a familiar sting of guilt. He quickly brushed it aside as he tried to bask in the compliment his father had given him.

"You do know, Hashirama, that we had a falling out with the Uchihas?"

If Hashirama dared, he would have rolled his eyes at this, but he nodded and said, "I heard two of our men were killed in a scuffle."

"Yes—Senju Ranmaru and Senju Motoko."

Hashirama cocked his head slightly, and said, before he could stop himself, "Who?"

His father's finally turned him, with eyebrows rising in question, "They should be something of third cousins to you." He seemed disappointed that Hashirama didn't know. The teenager growled inwardly—how could he know all 300+ people in this clan?

"Stop associating with that Uchiha boy, Madara," his father ordered casually, his eyes back on the scroll. Hashirama had prepared himself of this, having heard such a command numbers of time before whenever there was a falling out. He nodded obediently. Inwardly, he smiled—Madara was too stubborn for silly clan disputes to ruin his fun, and Hashirama saw it the same way. They were teenagers—rebelliousness was a must.

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**A/N**: Thank you very much for reading! _Please read and review_! I'd love to hear some opinions, feed back, criticism and even praises I can shamelessly accept. :} No stupid flames.

The next chapter Madara goes to take down Bijourama Junko and Hashirama plays big brother.

So, despite the moral dilemma that Hashirama found himself in for a moment, it isn't enough for him to stop playing the game. Hashirama has to get a hold of his morality slowly as he realized that he is very much capable of feeling compassion and sympathy. This game is a terrible game, because they're killing their victims by unnecessarily playing with them, getting their affections, betraying them—tormenting them both mentally and physically. Hashirama has begun to grasp this aspect of their dangerous fun. Madara is a whole another story, but we do know that he is a lying, evil, crazy bastard (but I'm sure he wasn't born this way).

This is just a small companion to _**Foxhunt**_ I've been trying to continue. They eventually play this game once in the course of the story, even though Hashirama has more of a developed moral character. Just some side musing, but fun! Thank you again!


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